


ACOTER: ANNUAL CONFERENCE OF THE ELVEN REALMS

by erestor



Series: ACOTER [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erestor/pseuds/erestor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year, Elrond, Celeborn, Galadriel and Thranduil meet up for a conference in Rivendell. This year, Glorfindel's untiring and somewhat excentric efforts to win Erestor's love add to the general chaos - as does Elrond's wine cellar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Glorfinkle, Garfindel and Glorfunkle

**Author's Note:**

> This is how it all began - how Glorfindel won Erestor's heart. This is pure humour, no angst, no drama, just warm fuzzies. Written from Erestor's point of view, this was the origin of Erestor's "Most Boring Work Reports".
> 
> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

Hectic day. The Annual Conference of the Elven Realms (ACOTER™) is held in Imladris this year, so the place is packed with horses and nobility.

King Thranduil the Exceptional and Impressive, Most Splendid and Feared Ruler of Mirkwood, King by the Valar's Grace, Ruler of 2000 Years, Shining Star of Greenwood The Green, Fairest of all Elven Lords, Light of the Dark Ages, Son of Oropher the magnificent, Elbereth's gift to the Eldar, etc. etc. etc., arrived early in the morning with his entourage.

Tricky business, considering the somewhat strained relationship between our two realms.

We have spent the last few days removing all Gil-galad paintings, figurines, statues and commemorative mugs from public sight, and Elrond is sulking because I deleted the trip to the Gil-galad museum from the list of official do's for tomorrow. Could not talk him out of using the Gil-galad tea-pot warmer, though.

I had planned to welcome the king with an intimidating formal reception; unfortunately he arrived early and Elrond was still busy holding council.

There were two Hobbits arguing over the ownership of a donkey, and while Elrond tried to talk some sense into them, the donkey decided that it had had enough petty bickering for one day and escaped into the great hall - the very moment Thranduil arrived.

He looked at me and said: "Master Erestor, you have not changed a bit since I last saw you."

Then he addressed the donkey: "Nor have you, dear Elrond."

I decided to show Thranduil to his rooms before another kinslaying took place.

Then I went looking for Glorfindel to discuss the rota for the guards. I found him near the Bruinen, practicing his archery using a painting of Thranduil as a target.

Judging from the results, he is either a seriously inferior archer or he was not aiming above the waistline in the first place …

Obviously one of Glorfindel's countless former wives had run off in the First Age with a bow-sales elf from Mirkwood, and he had held a grudge ever since.

Considering that one of Thranduil’s former wives ran off with Glorfindel, I think he is overdoing it, though.

Thranduil brought presents – how delightful: a book for the twins ( _"It is about Noldorian battle strategies through the ages and why they do not work"_ ); a set of silver knitting needles for Arwen ( _"The only proper weapons for a lady"_ ); and 3 carrion crows ( _"the best you can find in Mirkwood"_ ) for Elrond.

One bit him.

Just what we needed. How nice.

As soon as Thranduil was out of sight, Elrond passed the birds on to me, grabbed a bottle of Miruvor and retired to his rooms, feigning a headache.

Glorfindel suggested we serve the birds with garlic sauce for luncheon, but I decided to keep them. He pursed his lips and said that this was a wonderful idea, indeed, having pets was an expression of a sensitive mind, but maybe I should consider wearing a red robe for a change then, otherwise people might find it difficult to tell me from the crows.

I called the beasts Glorfinkle, Garfindel and Glorfunkle.

He was not amused.

Good!

Erestor

_Note to myself: Celeborn and Galadriel will arrive tomorrow; I must not forget to put a heavier lock on the door of the wine cellar._


	2. Day 2: Bramble and Rumble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every year, Elrond, Celeborn, Galadriel and Thranduil meet up for a conference in Rivendell. This year, Glorfindel's untiring and somewhat excentric efforts to win Erestor's love add to the general chaos - as does Elrond's wine cellar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

Most unpleasant day.

Found the five year old daughter of some friends of mine sitting on my sofa this morning, chewing on one of my scrolls. Note left on desk: 

"Have to attend a festivity in Gondor.   
Cannot take Bramble with us.  
Will pick her up in two weeks.  
Do not let her eat the Daisies.  
Have fun.  
Rabbit" 

I tried to take away the scroll, and Bramble bit me. So I carefully lifted her from the sofa and put her on the rug. She dropped the scroll and immediately started to chew on the fringes.

I think I really do not like children.

And just now, Celeborn had to arrive. He did not only bring his hair stylist and personal robe-designer, but also 24 exotic dancers, primarily to impress Thranduil and annoy Elrond, and also because Galadriel had to stay at home and supervise the redecoration of the royal talan.

Celeborn rode into Rivendell with an entourage to match his ego, and we had to find quarters for the scantily-clad maidens, who were leading the royal troup banging tambourines, singing most melodious praises of His Lordship and shaking their hips.

Much to my surprise Elladan, Elrohir and Legolas immediately offered their help in showing our guests to their quarters. I was delighted to see they finally found pleasure in fulfilling their duties as heirs to their respective realms.

In the meantime, Bramble had used my momentary lapse of attention to climb up the curtains in the main hall and throw apples at the delegation from Mirkwood. Beside the risk of her falling down, my authority was at stake, but no matter how much I shouted, screamed and cursed, she showed no sign of climbing down any time soon.

Glorfindel pushed me aside and said: "Erestor, let a professional handle this", and he purred: "Now, my beautiful little Elven princess, will you not come here and go for a little walk with uncle Glorfy?"

A greased lightning rushed down the curtains and into Glorfindel's arms, who gave me a most smug grin: "You need to work on your technique, Erestor. It is no surprise that you are still single."

I think I really do not like Glorfindel.

All went well until dinner. Went into the kitchen and ordered the cooks to prepare a most splendid meal in honour of our royal guests. Got bitten when I tried to take one of the soup bones away from Bramble.

For dinner, the tables were loaded with the sweetest fruits and most succulent meats. Thranduil started one of his lectures on the benefits of a meatless nutrition and an ascetic lifestyle. He boasted that all his children had been fed nothing but vegetables and fruits and had been brought up to live celibate, even after they had married, and one just had to look at Legolas to see that this was the best way to raise Elflings.

Unfortunately Celeborn, sensing some kind of commotion under the table, had the indelicacy to lift the table cloth, and there was one of his dancers, feeding Legolas a chicken leg.

Thranduil was not amused.

From nutrition

_("after eating meat for three ages, you can blame your receding hairline entirely on yourself, Elrond")_

they moved to healthy lifestyle

_("In Mirkwood, our warriors bathe in ice water every morning, this hardens their bodies" - "I always thought ice water had the opposite effect?")_

and finally combat techniques

_("We have great warriors here! Glorfindel is the famous Balrog slayer, after all!" - "Balrog slayer? I thought the beast laughed itself to death?"),_

and within minutes, we had another kinslaying at hand.

"You could not last a single night out in the woods without a soft bed, perfumed night robes and six maidens to fan you with mallorn leaves!" sneered Thranduil.

"Oh really?" Celeborn asked, and Thranduil shouted "Indeed! Shall we bet on it?" and Celeborn said "yes!"

Famous last words.

The bet was simple: Elrond and Celeborn had to stay out in the woods for two days and two nights, equipped with nothing but bows, arrows and hunting knives. If they could manage on their own, Thranduil would present each of them with his ultra-special rare vintage 2948 2nd Ager; if not, Elrond would give Thranduil a crate of Miruvor from his reserve and Celeborn had to lend him his dancers for a fortnight.

Tried to talk some sense into them, but Elrond was still sulking because of the hairline-remark and Celeborn never listens to anybody, anyway, so they both went to their chambers to pack their gear, and were back half an hour later dressed in leggings and armed as previously agreed upon.

Celeborn took in the most unusual sight of his son-in-law being out of his formal robes, and mentioned something about bows and bow-legs, which did NOT go down well with Elrond, who said: "Nice tunic, Celeborn, but is it not a little tight around the waist?"

Finally, they both bid their fare-wells and rode out into the dark. Had a very bad feeling about the whole thing, and told Glorfindel so, but he only shrugged.

"I do not know what your problem is", he said, "they are both old enough and experienced warriors. The worst that could happen would be Celeborn sitting in some poison ivy, and let us be honest, Erestor, we would both take great pleasure in his misfortune".

I did not answer, though I partially agreed - partially only because the worst possible thing to happen would not be Celeborn's encounter with poison ivy but him sending Elrond to the same place, saying it was absolutely safe there. He had done it before, while on honeymoon with Lady Galadriel. She had spent two days sitting in a bucket of ice water.

So now Celeborn and Elrond are out there in the wilderness, and while Thranduil already dreams of Elrond's miruvor (and possibly of the Lorien maidens doing the dance of the seven veils), Glorfindel is sitting in the main hall, entertaining Celeborn's dancers with hackneyed stories from his past.

Bramble has bitten one of them.

I think I like children.


	3. Day 3: Noli me tangere!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every year, Elrond, Celeborn, Galadriel and Thranduil meet up for a conference in Rivendell. This year, Glorfindel's untiring and somewhat excentric efforts to win Erestor's love add to the general chaos - as does Elrond's wine cellar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

Surprised Glorfindel in the library last night – he was right in the middle of demonstrating to one of Celeborn's dancers how exactly he had tackled and wrestled down the Balrog.

She was the Balrog.

Decided I needed to stay and sort some scrolls, so it got late.

I think he called me Eresterror when he left, but it is possible I got this wrong.

**5am**

Woke up thanks to loud shouting from direction of the garden. Grabbed my robe and stumbled to the window – it was Thranduil and his guards, doing morning exercises.

They were running around the old oak tree, the one close to Elrond's summer pavilion, which was bad enough this early in the morning, but they were singing Mirkwood classics like "My little Sylvan Maid".

For a moment I considered doing some archery practice on moving objects, but decided it was not worth a diplomatic incident.

Noticed some of Celeborn's dancers were lurking. They wolf-whistled every time Legolas passed below the balcony.

He passed often.

And he wore no shirt.

Show-off.

**10am**

Commotion in the summer pavilion.

Orophin let Arwen feel his biceps, then Estel let Orophin feel his fist. Orophin offered to place his bow where Arien never shines, and within seconds, they were at each other's throats.

Some insignificant broken bones aside, no harm was done. Need to discuss this with Elrond – somebody should enlighten Arwen on the complicated diplomatic relationship between the bees and the birds.

**11 am**

Was alarmed by Arwen's scream and grabbed for my sword. Either it was an Orc attack, or Bramble, who is being looked after by Arwen, had tried out some ancient Lórien martial art techniques on her, so I hurried outside.

It was neither. Somebody had placed a dead warg on her bed.

I really must talk to Orophin about the differences in courtship rites between Lórien and Imladris.

**4 pm**

Decided to go for a swim in the Bruinen. Arrived on the bank, threw off my robes and did an elegant swallow-dive into the river. Realized too late I was not alone. The dancer from last night was there, too, clad only in three strategically-placed mallorn leaves.

Which meant she still wore more than I did.

She offered to wash my back; I politely, but firmly refused. Then she said it was about time for me to overcome this unhealthy fear of bodily pleasures and enjoy life.

I asked her what she was talking about, she said no reason to be ashamed, Lord Glorfindel had told her all about my phobia.

That does it. I will have his head on a plate. With an apple in his mouth.

Sneaking closer, she started to talk about us "being grown-up Elves" and "seizing the day", and just when she was preparing to attack (losing one or two leaves in the process), I jumped out of the river and fled.

Unfortunately, I forgot my robes.

**5.15 pm**

Sat in the bushes freezing delicate bits off for over an hour before Thranduil passed by on his way to the stables. To add to my humiliation Glorfindel had to turn up, too.

Thranduil growled something about us being decadent, and Glorfindel slapped his back, happily crowing: "My king, look what lovely fruits our bushes bear – I doubt you will find anything like this back in Mirkwood! These, dear Thranduil, are the most famous Rivendell blackberries!"

I could have strangled him there and then.

But at least he gave me his cloak.

**7 pm**

Found maiden from the river sitting in my bathtub. She asked me to take a bite. I said I was on a sea fruit diet - I see fruit, but I don't eat it.

**9 pm**

One of the guards called with a note from Celeborn. He wants me to send a food hamper, some cushions, wine and dancers into the woods where they are camping. Gave the guard "Asceticism is a virtue", vol. II, from my personal library instead, and sent him off.

**9.15 pm**

Looked out of the window. Saw Rúmil speeding off into the woods. There were a picnic basket, two silk cushions and a maiden fastened to his saddle.

Celeborn just never plays fair.

**11 pm**

Went to my rooms for an early night.

Found a dead warg plus a basket of blackberries on my bed.

It must be the heat.

Elrond and Celeborn are still on their survival trip in the woods. While I write this, they are facing poisonous spiders, bloodthirsty mosquitos, murderous Orcs and ferocious wildebeests.

They are all alone.

Oh how I envy them.

Erestor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _to be continued: will Elrond and Celeborn win their bet? Will Arwen leave Estel for Orophin? Will Rúmil get lost in the woods? Who is trying to charm Erestor with dead wargs? And does Galadriel NOW know about the dancers? Stay tuned ..._


	4. Day 4: Mrs. Glorfindel, I presume?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every year, Elrond, Celeborn, Galadriel and Thranduil meet up for a conference in Rivendell. This year, Glorfindel's untiring and somewhat excentric efforts to win Erestor's love add to the general chaos - as does Elrond's wine cellar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

This foul day, easily the worst of my life, did not start out all that bad.

When I woke up in the morning, I found a basket of fresh strawberries on my night table, which was a most delightful surprise. Some kind soul must have overheard me remark yesterday to Glorfindel that I had been craving the red fruits for quite some time – how thoughtful! I decided to investigate later who my unknown benefactor was, but there and then, the morning looked much brighter when I bit in the first of the sweet juicy fruits.

* * *

By late morning, Elrond and Celeborn still had not returned home, and I started to worry about their well-being. The forces of evil are close to our borders, the two lords were out there in the woods all alone - Valar forbid they should be attacked! Not that I doubted Celeborn's abilities as a warrior, or Elrond's, but the last battle they had participated in was Glorfindel's 4th divorce, and though there had been a few tense moments back then (Fin's ex wife no. 4 was trying to give future wife no. 5 a haircut with a mace), two Elves facing a band of Orcs while armed with nothing but bows, hunting knives and sarcasm was another thing altogether.

I cursed Thranduil for the umpteenth time for initiating this foolish bet, and headed for Glorfindel's quarters to discuss the matter with him.

I knocked, and heard shuffling noises inside, followed by a thud and the rustling of cloth, but nobody opened the door. So I knocked again, this time a little louder.

"Glorfindel, it is I, Erestor. I need to talk to you."

More shuffling, and finally, Glorfindel opened the door, all ruffled and disheveled, wearing nothing but his breeches and sporting a love bite the size of a mallorn leaf on his collar bone. Now this was just ... I was standing here, fearing for the lives of our two most splendid Elven lords, and our fabulous Balrog slayer was ... doing whatever it is Balrog slayers do to acquire love bites.

At least he had the dignity to look guilty and blush.

"Can I come in?" I finally asked, "or shall we hold our meeting on the matter of a search party for the lords Elrond and Celeborn here in the hallway?"

Glorfindel groaned, and stepped aside.

"Erestor – lower your voice, please, I have 7 Dwarves in my head digging for Mithril, and this aside, it is much too early to argue."

I gave him a disapproving look.

"'Early?' My, Lord Glorfindel, how inconsiderate of me to drag you out of your bed as early as 11 am, an ungodly hour, by the Valar! I shall suggest to Lord Elrond that all meetings should be held after luncheon in the future, so you may not be distracted from your pleasures by unimportant issues like his being lost in the woods and facing possible devouring by a band of Orcs."

Glorfindel looked at me with bloodshot eyes.

"My dear Erestor, go easy on the sarcasm. There are icicles forming in the air already. If I have done anything to displease you or arouse your anger, you have my apologies. In fact, I promise to hang myself tomorrow should this be of any service to you, but for now, would you please take a seat and tell me what has happened?"

Take a seat?

On a good day, the seats in Glorfindel's rooms are covered with clothes, books, scrolls, frivolous illuminations and weapons of all kinds. Over the fireplace, the stuffed head of a Balrog can be admired, though the dirty sock hanging from one of its horns does diminish the heroic effect a little.

On a bad day, Fin forgot to return left-over meals to the kitchen, and the remains started to lead their own lives.

Today was a bad day, and as I noted with disgust the greenish mass on a plate half-hidden under a shirt carelessly thrown over the table, I had the distinct feeling that here a new lifeform had begun its existence, without a doubt worshipping Glorfindel as its creator.

Glorfindel settled on the bed, and while he pulled on his boots, he demanded to know which "well-meaning goddess" had directed my steps to his "humble chamber".

"Elrond and Celeborn." I said.

Glorfindel looked at me expectantly, and asked: "No goddess then. Fine. What is up with them?"

"I fear they might be in trouble."

Fin gave me a puzzled look . "What … you think they would …? Naw, don't worry, Celeborn is not Elrond's type …"

"Fin!" I shouted. "This is not funny! They are all alone and without protection!"

Fin gave me a sardonic smile.

"Well, we can only pray to the Valar then that neither of them gets pregnant …"

Before I could voice my outrage at this remark, the tapestry (nude maidens bathing) tumbled down, revealing a voluptuous blonde wearing nothing but her birthday suit, and I quickly identified her as the same female who had tried to devour me by the river.

Cursed be Celeborn and his personal entertainment program.

Fin cleared his throat, then he said:

"My sweetheart, this is Erestor - my … "

I gave him a look which clearly let him know that I was none of his whatsoever, so he broke off, and vaguely pointed at the female:

"Erestor, this is Alyel … my wife."

Silence.

"Well, one of them."

The fruit bowl made a lovely “thud” noise when it collided with Glorfindel's head. I don't think he will doubt my aim any time soon.

* * *

Despite his attitude, Glorfindel organised a search party immediately– once he gets started, he can be very efficient.

I'm sure his former wife would agree.

Not that I care.

They brought Elrond and Celeborn back soon enough, and indeed, the latter had gotten himself in a pickle. Alas, there were no Orcs involved, but a book called "1001 Lothlórien Love Positions", 6 bottles of miruvor and one of his dancers, who introduced herself as Aliswel, leaving him with a trapped nerve in his lower back and incapable of moving.

Or so he said.

Elrond, who had had to put up with a whining Celeborn for 24 hours, made a beeline for the wine cellar and locked the door behind him, announcing he would be meditating for the next few hours and didn't wish to be disturbed, and if Elladan could possibly look after the Lord Celeborn, for he'd had enough of him, thank you very much.

So we brought Celeborn to the healing house and called for Elladan to attend to his grandfather. Not that he was the best healer in Rivendell, mind you; Elrond had more than once remarked that his firstborn should rather treat cattle than Elves, which, considering the circumstances, was most probably precisely the reason Elrond wanted Elladan to take over this task.

While Elladan examined his grandfather, who uttered exclamations of distress and pain every other moment, Aliswel was wiping his fevered brow with a damp cloth. Celeborn had once made his way back to Doriath after a battle with both a leg and an arm broken, so I couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he was playing it up.

"Aya, it hurts … do not be so rough, Elladan! I am not one of your horses!"

Elladan muttered something which mercifully went unheard, and Aliswel cooed:

"Is there something I can do for you, my lord?"

Celeborn waved his left hand, which was sporting a scratch the size of a finger nail from the thorns of a bramble bush, tiredly in front of her face.

"This injury pains me awfully, my dear …" he whispered, his voice broken and weak.

Aliswel took his hand and purred: "Shall I kiss it better, my lord?"

"I would never have dared to ask, but since you offer so kindly …"

"What in Elbereth's name have you been up to now, Celeborn!"

Rejoice, oh Rivendell – the Lady Galadriel had arrived, flanked by Haldir and Rabbit.

The temperature dropped by at least 20 degrees immediately.

Her presence brought about a miracle healing in Celeborn, who turned a whiter shade of pale and jumped down from the bed immediately and with a remarkable agility, considering the severity of his injury.

Aliswel tried to hide behind Elladan, and Glorfindel excused himself to his rooms, claiming to be "exhausted".

No doubt!

* * *

May the Valar cover the following goings-on with the merciful veil of amnesia – first Galadriel was chasing after Celeborn waving a sword, and when Haldir finally managed to wrestle the weapon out of her hands, Thranduil handed her a broom, which was easier to carry and therefore allowed her to run faster.

Elladan and Elrohir placed their bets on their grandfather, while Legolas favoured Galadriel. I still suspect he might have a slight crush on her.

I turned away from the horrible scene, but as I was responsible for our guests while Elrond was contemplating his life in the wine cellar, I took it upon myself to witness the exodus of Celeborn's dancing dollies and ensure none was left behind.

This aside, swashbuckling Galadriel waving a pitchfork (courtesy of King Thranduil) was quite an amazing sight.

Finally, she threw back her hair, and muttered: "So, that is done." Then she turned to her Galadhrim, and ordered: "Haldir! Orophin! Rúmil! Fumigate the bedroom!"

The last one to leave was the former Mrs Glorfindel, by the way. I couldn't help but wave her goodbye.

I'm such a considerate host.

* * *

I had already donned my night robe and was about to finish my last letter for the day when somebody knocked on my door.

"Come in", I called, expecting Elladan with a report on Celeborn's health or at least on the state of the divorce negotiations between him and Galadriel.

Alas, it was Glorfindel.

I didn't bother to get up, just gave him a disapproving look and kept on writing.

"So …" he started.

"What is it you want, Lord Glorfindel", I said, without looking up from my work.

"I thought we should talk."

"There is nothing we need to talk about."

"Yes there is."

"No there isn't."

"Is."

"Not."

"If there is nothing wrong, I must assume that you have been throwing heavy silver plates at my illustrious person and ignoring me all day long for no reason other than simple, petty jealousy, then."

Now that was too much. I got up, leant over the desk and glared at him.

"Lord Glorfindel," I said with all the dignity I could muster, "if you expect an apology for the plate incident, you can wait till the end of Arda. Snow will fall in Mordor first. You are as welcome here as the Gondolonian plague, and about as desirable, and insulting me will not make you dearer to my heart. I suggest you leave me to my work and return to your duties, whatever or whoever they might be, and stop wasting my precious time."

There, that would shut him up. I was quite proud of myself.

Fin sighed, sat on my desk, which creaked under the weight of 6'5" of Balrog slayer, and obviously had no intention of leaving any time soon.

"So the presence of my former wife in a state of undress in my bedchamber neither upset you nor disturbed you in the least?" he said.

Upset? Me?

"Whom you bed is neither of any interest to me, nor is it any of my business, and a good thing that is; you bed about everyone who is not quick enough to climb the next tree when you show up, and considering the frequency of your activities in this field I would not have a single second left for my work if it was any of my business."

"Would you want it to be your business, my dear advisor?" Fin asked, and his maddening serenity almost drove me up the wall.

"But most certainly, dear Glorfindel." I smoothly replied, "it has always been my greatest wish to burden myself with an imbecile who hides his naked former wife behind the tapestries. My, who would not dream of such! Not to mention the prospect of finding my stuffed head next to the Balrog's on your wall. If you want trophies, go hunt somewhere else, you imp!"

We were now facing each other, me glaring daggers at him, Fin not looking away. It was a battle of wills, and neither of us was willing to give in.

"I take it you are not interested in me in a more - carnal way then." he stated.

The nerve!

"Of all the people in middle earth you are the one I am least interested in, my dear Lord Glorfindel. Even an Orc looks attractive compared to you!"

And then he kissed me.

And what a lousy kiss it was.

I hereby publicly declare that the fabled Glorfindel of Gondolin is the most untalented kisser I have ever encountered. It was a badly aimed kiss, our noses bumped and his tongue was in all the wrong places.

It was the worst kiss I ever got - so why were there fireworks and stars sparkling, butterflies in my stomach, a rush of heat from head to toe, radiating from his heavy hand resting on my neck, and why did I feel, if only for the fraction of a second, that I had never tasted anything as sweet as this kiss?

A kiss which, I have to add, left a faint taste of strawberries in my mouth.

When Fin finally released me, I was too stunned to say anything. He followed the outline of my lips with his thumb, then got up and went to the door. His hand on the door handle, he looked over his shoulder, and gave me a rather smug smile.

"For somebody who is not interested, my dear Erestor, you are awfully interested."

And thar it went, my honour …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Will Celeborn and Galadriel get divorced? If yes – who will get the table ware, and who the horses? Will Erestor finally admit he likes Glorfindel more than an Orc? And what about Glorfindel's wife? And anyway, what did Elrond do in the wine cellar? Then there is still the unresolved case of Orophin and Arwen … will Estel stake his claim?_
> 
> _All this and much more soon – stay tuned …_


	5. Day 5: The Taming of the Shrew (or not)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every year, Elrond, Celeborn, Galadriel and Thranduil meet up for a conference in Rivendell. This year, Glorfindel's untiring and somewhat excentric efforts to win Erestor's love add to the general chaos - as does Elrond's wine cellar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Rabbit and the concept of the Plains Elves are creations by the ever lovely Magic Rat (delaese on LJ) and used with permission.
> 
> Beta: Eveiya

Shall I rest my hands on top of my silken bedcover?

Or rather underneath it?

Ai Elbereth - how in Elbereth's name was an Elf expected to sleep when confronted with such difficult decisions?

For the umpteenth time I was tossing and turning in my bed – two o'clock in the morning, and still I was fully awake.

I even tried to close my eyes. Elrond had insisted more than once that sleeping was much easier and more refreshing if you closed your eyes. His word in Elbereth's ears – it did not work for me. He is the only one here who sleeps with his eyes closed (it is all down to the mariner genes), a fact Elrohir had once ruthlessly taken advantage of. He had drawn Orc eyes on his father's lids in the night.

Unfortunately, nobody had bothered to tell Elrond, which led to a rather embarrassing encounter with some dwarven lord on the morrow.

If the dwarves did not think Elves crazy before that, they certainly thought so after.

* * *

3 am, and all was awake on the bedroom front, so I decided to get dressed and take a short stroll in the garden.

Glorfinkle swooped down from the top of the bookshelf where he usually to slept with his two brothers, and landed on my shoulder. Another insomniac, it seemed.

Maybe a walk in the fresh air would do us both good and take my thoughts off rings, realms, agreements, contracts, kings, lords, possible divorces, ex wives and Glorfindel's amazingly soft lips.

Now where did that thought come from?

Out, out, you evil spirits of lust!

While I slipped into a pair of breeches, a light tunic and my boots, I tried to focus on matters not involving Fin in any way, shape or form, and ended up thinking about Orcs, which led to beasts in general, Balrogs in particular and - there was no escape - back to Glorfindel again.

Damn the Elf. What demon had driven him to ruin our friendship after all these years? And what had driven me not to whack him over the head with a candlestick, but rather to be an - admittedly not very active, but nevertheless still willing - participant in this nonsense?

"A fine mess have we gotten ourselves into here, my friend," I said to the crow who had made himself comfortable on my shoulder, pecking at one of my braids. The bird did not answer, but dropped something on the floor, which was a very spot-on remark, if I may say so.

* * *

I was still brooding over the strawberry-incident when I went down the path to Elrond's gazebo. Much to my surprise it was illuminated by the dim light of a candle, and muffled voices and a female's laughter could be heard. Who, I wondered, was holding a romantic tryst here in the middle of the night?

A cold hand took hold of my heart. Glorfindel would not - or would he?

But then it would be just so typical – kissing me and then having his wicked way with some chamber maid or, Valar forbid, one of Galadriel's ladies in waiting.

Spying and prying was beneath my dignity, but as Glorfindel likes to say: "All is fair in feeling-a-somewhat-mild-affection-for-somebody and war", and as I did feel a somewhat mild affection for Glorfindel, I felt I could stoop this low for once, so I sneaked up to the gazebo without a sound – what am I an Elf for, after all – and ducked beneath one of the bushes, peeking through the railings.

Ai Elbereth – it was Arwen! She was sitting on the floor, wearing a dress cut decidedly too low for this occasion and time of the night, gazing up admiringly at Orophin, who was just about to demonstrate exactly how he had killed this or that Orc, but from the predatory glimmer in his eyes I could tell very clearly that the prey in question tonight was not of Orcish kind and certainly had no fangs. At least not now.

I was still pondering how to break up the party without finding myself with one or two vital organs skewered by Orophin's sword or my face scratched by Arwen's finger nails, when a male in a dark cloak came storming up the path.

He made a noise like a herd of Oliphants, and Orophin broke off his tale and reached for his sword, preparing to fight off the intruder. Arwen jumped up, hiding behind him.

So much for the vaunted emancipation of the modern Elf maiden …

"How dare you …" began Orophin, brandishing his sword at the intruder, but before he could finish his sentence, a hurricane stormed in, and Estel's fist collided with Orophin's face. The Galadhrim hit the floor hard, his nose started to bleed and he looked up at the infuriated young man with an expression of complete bewilderment.

Estel growled at the Elf, grabbed Arwen's wrist, pointed with the thumb of his other hand back to the Last Homely House, and barked: "You. My talan. NOW."

And Arwen obeyed immediately.

So much for the emancipation of … but we've covered that already.

Which left me to deal with one heart- and possibly also nose-broken Galadhrim.

I helped Orophin up, and offered him a hanky to stop the bleeding. He pressed the cloth to his face, then he glared at me.

"Mordor – that was my line!"

I suggested he should file a claim for plagiarism.

* * *

Some time later, I continued my walk through the garden. The stars were shining brightly above me, and I remembered how my nana used to tell me that the blinking ones were winking at me. I believed her, of course. I also believed her when she said I'd go blind if I looked at naked maidens bathing, and that the tips of my ears would fall off if …

The flow of my thoughts was broken when I caught the highly unexpected sight of Lord Celeborn, draped over the branch of an old oak tree like a tired cat. When he saw me, he stretched, again very cat like, and smiled.

"Ah, another restless soul. Well met, dear Erestor – what drives you out into the night?"

"Well met, too, my lord. I must say – there seem to be more Elves out in the garden than in the house this night. Did sleep fail you, too?"

Celeborn grinned, and stretched out on the branch again, this time on his back. I was sure I'd have fallen off by now, trying the same, but the Lothlórien Elves seemed to be part of the trees, and Celeborn certainly looked like a natural extension of the branch – one very tall, very impressive silver leaf.

"The Lady Galadriel has decided that my presence in her bedroom is not required at the moment, and most probably not for another couple of centuries. I thought that the situation would not improve if I looked for shelter with one of the chamber maids, so I decided to retire here."

I decided not to comment on this, and also ignored the black eye and the scratches his lordship sported.

"But enough of this. Tell me, dear Erestor – what is it that troubles your mind? What has had such an impact on your placid soul that sleep evades you and your restless heart is driven out into the night?"

I blushed (something I seem to do a lot lately), and when I did not answer, Celeborn added slyly:

"Or should I reword it and say: who?"

I cleared my throat, and replied:

"I do not know what you are referring to, my lord, but I shall leave you to your solitude now", and made to leave.

"Wait. My apologies, dear advisor – I was a little fresh. But if there is something that troubles you, maybe I can help? Though, of course, if you should prefer the company of your crow …"

Glorfinkle had flown off my shoulder and was now scratching in the grass in front of me, eyeing Lord Celeborn suspiciously.

Maybe I should have summoned the feathered beast and left, but there was something in Celeborn's voice which made me feel that I could trust him, and I just had to talk about this with somebody – and anybody else in Imladris was out of question. I walked up to the Lord of the Golden Woods, and said:

"I pray, my lord, tell me - is it possible that love should of a sudden take such hold?"

Celeborn was suddenly very alert.

"Love? By the Valar – love? That I live to see the day – nay, the night – that you shall talk of love! Is it possible? Has some lucky Elf finally found the suitable hammer to knock down your walls?"

I frowned and preferred not to answer this. Celeborn thought about it for a moment, then he smiled – one of his rare genuine smiles, with warmth that one did not expect from him.

"I see … correct me if I am wrong here, but has, by any chance, some great warrior pierced your heart with his broad sword? No pun intended, of course."

"I feel … a mild attraction," I muttered.

"Of course you do. And I am an elderly hobbit female who spends her time knitting."

"Ai – my lord, do not make fun of me!"

"Please, Erestor – there is no need to pretend. You care for him, he cares for you – so where is the problem?"

I shrugged.

"My lord, how shall I put it – I do not feel the wish to boost Lord Glorfindel's collection. It is already the biggest in Middle-earth, and I do not think there is any need to add another trophy."

Celeborn nodded.

"I see. You are worried that this is not a matter of the heart, but one of a hunter stalking his prey. "

"I should think so."

Celeborn climbed down from the tree, and brushed the small pieces of bark off of his leggings, carefully avoiding Glorfinkle who pecked after the lordly ankle with his beak.

"And you think him a rogue, one who takes life easy and likes to play with hearts, breaking them in the process and leaving a trail of weeping lovers behind him?"

I winced, but nodded.

Celeborn put a hand on my shoulder, and gave me a stern look.

"Erestor. Glorfindel may act the fool, but he is none. He saw the fall of his home and his family slaughtered, saw his lover die, fought the Balrog, died in the process and returned from the halls of Mandos. If anybody has earned the right to be a nuisance, it is him."

He paused a moment, then he asked:

"Does he call you silly names?"

"Yes."

"Plays pranks on you which leave you embarrassed?"

"Indeed."

"Gives you tasteless presents?"

"He does."

"Then, my friend, I can only give you one advise, and you would do well to heed it."

I looked up at the majestic, wise Elven lord in anticipation.

"I will, my lord – and what is your advise?"

Celeborn squeezed my shoulder.

"Stock up on Wild Thyme Oil – strawberry-scented will just not last."

With that, he turned around, and climbed back onto his branch.

When I walked back to the last homely house, I said to Glorfinkle:

"And this, my feathered friend, is exactly the reason why he is the lord and I am the advisor, for Middle earth would be lost if it were the other way around."

* * *

Back at the Last Homely House, I heard a strange noise, coming from Elrond's wine cellar.

The nerve! Who dared to desecrate Elrond's sanctum sanctorum? I heard two voices singing, but not the lovely Elven melodies I was used to. It was more something like

"Two jolly Elves sat in Rivendell's cavern  
And they decided that they would have another

For tonight we'll merry, merry be,  
Tomorrow we'll be sober.

Here's to Galadriel who drinks water pure and goes to bed quite sober,  
She falls as the leaves do fall,  
She'll be sick before October.

Here's to Elrond who drinks Miruvor and goes to bed quite mellow,  
He lives as he's supposed to live  
He'll die a jolly old fellow.

Here's to the maid who steals a kiss, and runs to tell her mother,  
She's a little foolish foolish Elven maid,  
For she'll not get another.

Here's to the maid who steals a kiss, and stays to have another,  
She's a boon to all Elvenkind  
For she'll soon be a mother.

Two jolly Elves sat in Rivendell's cavern  
And they decided that,  
And they decided that they would have another ."

I left Glorfinkle in the great hall, lit a candle and hastened down the stairs, ready to call the miscreants fooling around in Elrond's sanctuary to order.

When I opened the door to the wine cellar, it was, alas, nobody but Elrond and Thranduil, both as drunk as Dwarves at a banquet.

Thranduil sat on a barrel, wore a ridiculous paper helmet and, armed with bow and arrows, was shooting bottles off the shelves.

Elrond was just in the process of folding another paper boat - about twenty of them were already floating on a red sea – sometime through the evening, the two had opened all the barrels and flooded the place.

"What in Elbereth's name is going on here!" I howled, and both Lord and King looked up at me. Elrond sported a dopey grin.

"Ooooh, 's good ol' Erestoh ... huuuhuu, Erestoh! We shusst build a fleet t' sail to the 'avens!"

He pointed proudly at ship number 21.

I tore my hair out.

"Ai Elbereth, Lord Elrond - you cannot do this!"

Elrond pouted and folded his arms, giving me a sulky look.

"Of c'uz I can - I'm the son o' a mariner, aft' all!"

Thranduil nodded.

"Yes, he is, I can confirm it! And we are the bestest of friends! And I am the King of the Woods! And you are a spy!"

With that, he aimed his next arrow at me, and I was out of the door faster than you could say "Gil-galad".

* * *

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. Elrond and Thranduil, both suffering from the mother of all hangovers, decided to continue their newly-found friendship, and an agreement was signed, which ensured military and humanitarian support for Mirkwood as well as a delivery from Thranduil’s realm for Elrond's wine cellar.

Galadriel oversaw the positive developments on the diplomatic front with a mild smile. Celeborn stood beside her and waved a palm leaf to cool the air – as if anything could have been as frosty as Galadriel's looks in his direction. Alas, the divorce seemed to have been postponed - at least for now – and I had no doubt that it would take Celeborn only a couple of days, a new silk coat and some charming compliments to get back into the lady's good books and bed.

For now, though, he was waving the palm leaf as if his life depended on it, and, judging by Galadriel's expression, it most probably did.

* * *

When all papers were signed and the good-bye's made, I stepped out on the balcony, took a deep breath of the fresh evening air and watched the Mirkwood party preparing for their departure. Thranduil sat on his white steed, his regal air ruined by the ice pack on his head and a couple of paper bags which were discreetly fixed to his saddle – just in case.

"Master Erestor – I come to bid my proper farewells."

I turned around – it was Rúmil. Of course – who else but a Galadhrim could sneak up on me unnoticed.

Beside Glorfindel, of course. Not that I'd admit that fact, though.

I managed a smile.

"Rúmil – that is very kind. I hope you enjoyed your stay in Rivendell?"

The youngest of the magnificent Lórien brothers gave me a radiant smile. By the Valar – he must have 64 teeth!

"But most certainly, my lord! Any place you are is like home to me." he said, and bowed gallantly.

Eh?

"What …" I stuttered.

"Oh do no tell me you did not notice … and you did like my present, did you not?"

Notice? Present? What was this – National Erestor Confusing Day?

I must have looked very puzzled, for Rúmil moved closer – very much closer, to be more precise. Close, actually.

"I don't hunt down Wargs for just any handsome Elf that crosses my path, my lord. Only for the truly exquisite ones."

Finally, even I got it.

"The – the Warg was a present from you?"

Rúmil laughed, and his hands came to rest on my waist.

"Of course – or did you think I would present an exquisite treasure like you with a wicker basket of blackberries? That I leave to love struck chambermaids and foolish Elflings who do not know any better, my lord."

And for the second time in two days, this Elf here got kissed without being asked first, this time, alas, by a true expert who knew what he was doing. He found just the right angle, there was no awkward fumbling, his tongue was exactly where it should be, and all this on top of the feeling of being held in the strong arms of one of Lothlórien's most handsome Elves.

And what happened?

Nothing.

It was about as exciting as kissing my aunt.

Or biting into a piece of raw liver.

Just as I tried to pull away, the Forces of Evil attacked, in the form of Glorfindel, eyes blazing, golden tresses flying, looking like one of the very flattering paintings of him in Elrond's gallery (of the "Heroic Elven Lord in Shining Armour Slaughtering Big Ugly Beastie, 25' x 50' kind), grabbing Rúmil by the neck and shaking him like a pup.

"That's from the 'love struck chambermaid', you Orc! This is MY advisor you are messing with here – if you need one, get your own!" he bellowed, and Glorfindel's fist collided with Rúmil's nose, an ugly sound announcing that another Lothlórien-nose had suffered serious damage, and then all hell broke lose.

Rúmil and Glorfindel wrestled and fought on the floor like two mad dogs, fists flying, and while Fin had the battle experience of many millennia on his side, Rúmil was young and very agile, and outsmarted Fin more than once. He did not get his reputation for being a fiery warrior and lover for nothing.

I stood there like one of Mr. Baggin's trolls, and could not move a limb – so I was relieved when Elrond, Celeborn, the twins and some guards stormed in.

"By the Valar!" Elrond boomed, "what is going on here?!?"

No answer, just the sound of fighting and muttered curses in dwarvish.

"Interesting language", Celeborn remarked, then he decided it was time to end this nonsense, and grabbed for the first limb to come his way, which just happened to be Rúmil's foot.

He dragged the squirming and protesting Galadhrim away by the leg, and Elladan and Elrohir got a hold of Fin, though he gave them a hard time, struggling and trying to break free.

The Lord of the Golden Woods took in the scenery, then he shook his head.

"I should think that enough noses have been broken for one visit, so we shall take our leave now. Rúmil, get on your horse, and make haste, and Glorfindel – you are an old fool."

With that, Celeborn turned and left the battlefield, followed by his guard and the twins, who had released Glorfindel and were having a hard time stifling their laughter. Rúmil, touching his broken nose and wincing, glared daggers and worse at Glorfindel, who could not resist showing him his tongue.

How mature.

Elrond cocked an eyebrow, did the Lord of Imladris thing and towered above Fin, who looked up sheepishly at his lord.

"Glorfindel, you are the nail in my coffin." Elrond said, and sighed, covering his eyes with his long hand and turning around.

"I have a headache … I'll be in my quarters … or the wine cellar …"

Which left Fin and me alone.

May the Valar have mercy on me.

* * *

Having been on the receiving end of Glorfindel's endless hackneyed tales on the subject of "How I killed the Balrog", I had never wasted much thought on the Balrog's point of view.

But standing here now, facing a furious Glorfindel, every inch a warrior and quite obviously mad as hell with me, I started to feel sympathy for the poor beast. If the Balrog had been only half as scared as I was right now, death must have been sweet mercy to it.

"Youuuu …" hissed Glorfindel, and started to approach me slowly, his eyes literally blazing with anger.

"I can explain this …" I started, but an almost animal-like growl cut me off.

I did not know Elves were capable of producing such sounds.

I took a step backwards, then two, and when Glorfindel lunged, I almost tumbled over the railing, knocked over by the force of the attack.

Before I could yelp (and by then, I felt very much like yelping), The Gondolonian Wonder had grabbed me, spun me around and thrown me over his shoulder, stomping out of the great hall and carrying me off like a sack of flour.

I beat on his back with my fists, but it was to no avail. How humiliating! Elves were standing in the hallway, eyes like saucers, snickering, and I wished I was dead.

"Let me down! Glorfindel – I am not joking! Let me down immediately!" I shouted, trying to wriggle free. But Fin held tight, and barked:

"Forget it - one cannot leave you unsupervised for even a minute, you goggle-eyed scarecrow!"

I started to kick.

"Will you stay put now, Erestor, or do I have to bind you?"

"You would not dare!" I howled, and almost fainted when I heard Elrohir calling Elladan, offering him a bet on whether Fin would or not.

Traitors! Vipers I have nursed at my bosom!

Nothing could stop Fin. He carried me all the way through the hallway, up the stairs and finally arrived in front of my quarters, kicking the door open and breaking the doorframe in the process.

He dropped me unceremoniously, and grabbed me by the shoulders so I was facing him. I was fuming by now, and shouted:

"Release me, you miserable outcome of an unhappy love affair between an Orc and a Warg!"

And what did this infuriating mad Elf say to that?

"First, kiss me, Erestor, and I will."

I blew a strand of hair out of my face.

He wanted a kiss? Fine.

"I did not mean on the nose, Erestor."

I had no doubt that Glorfindel would learn in time to be more precise with his statements.

* * *

I woke up because Glorfinkle tried to make off with one of the beads in my braids. I shooed the bird away, and was a little disorientated at first. It was still deep in the night, the moon was illuminating my chamber, and outlining the form of the tall Elf sleeping beside me with a sheen of silver.

One moment - "tall Elf"?

I frowned. How did Fin get into my bed? And, after having a peek under the sheets, how come we were both naked?

Oh …

Oh oh ...

And ouch.

One sore advisor here.

Another peek under the bedsheets. Ah, indeed – the trees grow tall in Gondolin.

With growing awareness, the memories returned. Memories of gentle touches and whispered words of love, of sky blue eyes turning dark blue like the stormy sea with passion, of tears and hot lips and callused fingers on my skin, of being held and holding, of Fin's taste on my lips and the all-consuming, overwhelming feeling of love and belonging.

My perfectly organized world had been turned upside down, had been conquered and won over by Glorfindel of Gondolin, and I had surrendered, waved the white flag and entrusted him with my soul, life and heart for all eternity.

If you gonna do it, do it right, as my nana used to say.

Well, the first thing you learn in diplomacy is to make the best of every situation, so I snuggled up to Fin as close as possible. Mmm … nice. He looked so peaceful while sleeping – the tiny wrinkles in the corners of his eyes were almost gone, so was the slightly arrogant smile he usually sported, and I took the liberty of running the back of my hand over his cheek.

Nice feeling. Could get used to it. Possibly will.

I buried my face in the curve of his neck, taking in his scent. A mix of leather, horse, stable, Miruvor, beech, arrogance and irony, a scent which covered me like a soft blanket – a blanket so comforting that I fell asleep almost immediately when my head touched his chest.

The last thing I noticed before I fell asleep was the empty bottle of Wild Thyme Oil on the side table.

* * *

The End  
(so far)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Two jolly fellows" is an old English tavern song, dating back to the Elizabethan age, and I have no idea who originally wrote it._
> 
> _Please forgive us, Master Shakespeare, we meant no harm – at least not to you. The following quotes were shamelessly used in this work report - all coming from "The Taming of the Shrew":_
> 
> _"I pray, sir, tell me,--is it possible/ That love should of a sudden take such hold?" 1.1 (Tranio)_
> 
> _"First, kiss me, Kate, and we will." 5.1 (Petruchio)_


End file.
